His Butler:The Final Solution
by Aservis Roturier
Summary: Sebastian tackles 'the Midford disaster'. Chaos, a drunken master, ill-conceived explosives experiments, naked servants in the driveway, orgies, Lau's girls and funny-smelling 'incense' in the smoking room and unexpected ungulates on the tablecloth in the dining room. Can the four Kittehs of the Apocalypse (War, Famine, Anestofleas and Bafftime) be far behind?
1. Chapter 1

That Butler: The Final Solution

Yes, it is I, Sebastian mchaelis, the Phantomhive butler. Please forgive my ridiculous appearance. It isn't as though I chose to wear this asinine bonnet. If you are familiar with the household, you will no doubt recognise the signs: Miss Elizabeth is with us once again, and the mansion is in a frilly pink shambles in the wake of the visitation of the 'o-isn't all-the-world-just-too-cute' Midford disaster.

As things are, mere weeks stand between us and this shambolic condition becoming our daily reality. My young lord's morbid sense of humour made him suggest his nuptials be celebrated on All Hallow's Eve. That was shot down by the Marchionesse, but the fall date was retained because the young mistress thought a harvest themed wedding would be (wait for it:) 'cute' and her parents wanted the wedding sooner rather than later.

So, the Midford continues, like some dreadful girly parasite, to embed itself deeper and deeper into our lives. This latest visit seems to have been the final straw for nearly everyone.

I have just come from the kitchen where I have actually had to touch both Maylene and our joke of a gardener, in order to 1) get their hysterics under control, 2) get them to focus on my words, and 3) assure them I do realise Steps Must Be Taken and since no one else here appears to have the testicular fortitude to intervene-no, that's not entirely true. I must give Bard credit: he at least attempted to take action.

Last night, Bard crept rather clumsily into the Midford's bedroom and placed enough dynamite under the girl's bed to bring down the entire west wing and was just running the fuse out the window and into the back garden—with a cigarette in his mouth!—when I was forced, against my better judgement, to stop him. So. It would appear Americans are not entirely without a certain charm or usefulness after all.

But I digress. Since no one else will act, for the sake of the long-term sanity of everyone living on this estate –not least my own, I must take the initiative.

Having left Maylene in a state of near collapse, blubbing, with her head on the kitchen table and a half empty bottle of sherry at her elbow, I realise it is down to me to clear the dining room. The other two refuse to show their faces upstairs lest they get the 'cute' treatment. Tanaka appears to be in a sake-induced coma. I couldn't coax even a single 'ho' from him, let alone any assistance.

We recently installed a dumb waiter which communicates with the butler's pantry, so a task such as single-handedly clearing up after a late supper with guests is a good deal less labour intensive than formerly and well within the powers of even an ordinary, non-demonic, non-Phantomhive butler to accomplish, so I hurry up and get on with it.

A nasty shock awaits me before I can even begin, however: there, by the sideboard, stands my master gulping down brandy like it was lemonade, gulping it neat from the decanter. the servants are not the only ones suffering, it would seem. After all, he's the sacrificial animal in all this.

Have everyone in the house lost their minds? As Satan is my witness: things can _not_ continue this way.

"My lord. Have you _no_ shame left whatever?"

"Where she's concerned? Tch." he snorts blearily and tosses back another slug, swallowing the wrong way and erupting in a fit of coughing and atomised brandy.

I am inclined to let him choke. He's brought all this on himself, after all, and the utter despair he's wallowing in is doing simply wonderful things to the flavour of his soul. However I do owe him a certain amount of protection, so...

"Tell me, my lord, what would be your opinion of someone willing to ruin lives, make innumerable people unemployed, sick at heart and despairing of life simply because he lacks the courage to speak up and tell the truth?"

His head bumbles up and down (and here and there)with his silent, smirking snickering. "Hell's bells, demon, I'd greet 'im like a longlos' bruvver and in invite him t' sit down and have a li'l drinkie...prolly needs one at least as badly as I do."

I never thought I would say this, but my lord the earl, the bravest little soul I have ever been privileged to join contractually, is nothing but a big girl's blouse when it comes to standing up to this wretched fiancée of his.

Gah! The entire situation makes my ass throb—please forgive my language.

"My lord, I believe I would be doing you a kindness in taking your soul right now, so please come here." I hold out a hand to him rather commandingly.

I am rewarded with the sound of the decanter hitting the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

The Final solution Ch. II

"My lord, I believe I would be doing you a kindness in taking your soul right now, so please come here." I hold out a hand to him rather commandingly. I am rewarded with the sound of the decanter hitting the floor.

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me. The kindest thing I could do for you, not to mention everyone else in this cursed household, is take your soul right now, so please take your hand off that sherry decanter and come over here to me. Now."

"Psht! Don't be a bass, Ass-chun," he slurs, clucking his tongue, then pulling a face. "Sorry, that came out ... tongue's rafther fthick f'some schtrange reason."

Look at him: he can barely stand up, the silly creature...

"Looka ... looka what you made me do,"he mutters. "Schtupid demon," he is staring sadly at the spilt Napoleon puddling around his boots. He is listing gently from side to side, clinging to the sideboard for balance, staring at the carpet. He licks his lips thoughtfully and I see his knees give a fraction. BaalBerith's balls, I do believe he is seriously contemplating getting down on his noble hands and knees and sucking the alcohol straight out of the turkey rug—not that you couldn't safely eat-or in this case drink- off my floors, but I ask you: where has my proud master disappeared to?!

"Has a mere sprog of a girl frightened you to such an extent you would prefer becoming a fourteen year old drunk to telling her what you truly think of living "happily ever after" with a squealing pink dervish?"

Apparently the answer is 'yes' because all he does is peer at me owlishly. He makes a few odd twitches and head movements that look as though he's about to comment on my question but nothing comes out.

"Do you realise in three years time you could be as wide as you are tall and completely unable to walk?"

More wordless peering.

"Is it really easier for you to die of drinker's liver than simply tell the girl the truth?"

"Shu'rup, you. Aneewa-ay...'s'not like I could change anything...th'hell do you think I'm drinkin' for?" He makes a sort of 'pssh' noise at me, waves a dismissive hand in my direction, turns away quite unsteadily and, snatching the other decanter from the sideboard, weaves off more or less toward the grand staircase and, presumably, his bedroom.

I suppose every human has an 'Achilles' heel' of one kind or another, something they love, hate or fear to such an unreasonable extent they can be made to do things otherwise quite uncharacteristic for them. There's little doubt in my mind what shape my master's particular weakness takes. The same child I have seen face down rapists, Mafiosi, death gods-both sane and barmy-zombies, and demons, the child I've long since accepted as my master morphs into wet newsprint before this girl. I simply cannot comprehend it.

Then again, when I consider the mother...

With no other convenient vent for my frustrations I fling myself onto the dining table in a whirlwind of stacking, scraping and clearing, all the while deliberating over some effective plan of action for my master's situation. Quite soon I have all the detritus of the evening meal bundled into the dumbwaiter and bound for the pantry. Now if only Maylene isn't in such a drunken stupor by now that she cannot unload it and see to the cloth, dishes and leftovers it will be one less thing to worry over.

I find my master in his bedroom, sitting on the floor on the far side of the bed, his back propped against the bed post, still drinking, sadly staring out the window at the impenetrable dark. Since calls to his logic, his pride and his sense of shame have left him unmoved, I intend to now try a different tack. I sit down beside him on the floor and pretend to join him in his binge, taking the bottle from him momentarily. At the least it will get the alcohol out of his hands part of the time and slow down his consumption. With a bit of luck I can perhaps make one last attempt at talking some sense into him before it is too late.

"Your servants have resigned, my lord," I tell him, tipping the decanter back and pretending to take a long deep pull at the bottle.

"What?!"

"Bard, Maylene, Finny and even Tanaka have each approached me privately yesterday and resigned their positions effective immediately."

"Even Tanaka?!"he staggers to his feet, profoundly shocked. "What the hell for?'

"What do you imagine the reason to be, my Lord?"

"But... but why the hell didn't you try to _stop_ them?"

"Stop them!? My Lord, I wish to _join_ them."

"You—you wish to..." He blinks hard at me and then sits back down on the floor hard. I am actually glad to see this: at least something matters to him. Nothing else seems to. "Are you leaving me, then? Are all my servants leaving me?"

I scrub my fingers through my hair because I can't the grab the child and shake him as I am aching to, and I simply must do something. These fingers of mine are dying to tear something up. My hair will simply have to do for now.

"I persuaded them to give me one last opportunity to try and work something out with you. If not, then perhaps you will soon be here alone, my Lord, yes."

His face drains of all colour. I let that sink in a moment before delivering the killing blow: "But take heart, my Lord. You won't be alone for long. Very soon now you will have your darling fiancée Elizabeth at your side, every single minute of every day from now on, for the rest of your very long life. And who knows? Perhaps your aunt Frances will move in too, to save you from your native disorderliness and keep you safe."

"Keep me safe, safe from what?!"

"Ah hah hah. How quickly my Lord forgets. Do not imagine for a moment that the previous attacks perpetrated on this manor and your person won't start back up once word gets around that your formerly formidable, deadly servants have left you en masse. Perhaps you will have reason to be glad the Midfords are all so proficient with the sword. You may wish to invite the entire family to move in with you, even Miss Elizabeth's brother."

"Oh _no_, not him _too_..." The child groans and curls up on the floor cradling his head in his hands."Give me back the damned sherry, Sebastian."

"No."

Now!" he demands.

"My Lord, listen to me—"

"You can't leave me Sebastian, that's an order! We have a deal!"

"I certainly _can_ render this contract void if I wish to, Ciel, and I am _seriously considering it_, because frankly, not even your soul is worth this!"

"Wanker," he mutters.

" My Lord look at me, I am wearing a pink bonnet! The child will have me in a corset and a frilly knickers by the end of the week at this rate! For a girl who grew up with an older brother do you not agree she has a seriously disordered concept of gender differences!? I could not bear watching what will happen to you should you permit this girl to become a permanent part of this household."

"Dunno what you're on about."

I shake the decanter of sherry before his face. "This. This is what I'm on about: It's already starting to happen and I can tell you, Ciel Phantomhive, I want nothing more than to walk out that door and leave you to it, since it's what you've chosen. I am not obligated to stay and watch you destroy yourself—nor her either, for that matter, because you cannot think for a moment that limply going along with their wishes and marrying the girl is going to lead to anyone's genuine happiness. Not even Miss Elizabeth is so delusional as to continue lying to herself about your feelings when she arrives on the other side of those vows and realises your distain for her has not changed one whit. And while it's true your soul will be improved by the sheer anguish you will endure when she turns into her mother and starts tormenting you day and night for duping her, I assure you I would have no appetite for it, nor for witnessing any of it." I took another mimed swig and retained the bottle, turning to fix him with my steeliest of glares so he is in no way allowed to think I am anything but deadly serious, because in fact, I am.

"So, my lord, I am here _one last time,_ to _beg_ you. Beg you, Ciel. If you cannot bring yourself to do something about all this, then give me the order: permit me the freedom to act in your behalf to stop this marriage so it is no longer looming over us all like some matrimonial sword of Damocles, poised to ruin you and everything you hold dear."

He is silent for a long time. So long I am on the verge of giving up and getting up to leave—and I mean truly leave. I was only sitting there deciding where to go first once I'd got through the boy's door when I heard the tiniest of small voices say softly "You can't kill her, Sebastian. I forbid it."

"My Lord," I tell him tiredly, "as much as I would enjoy killing her, as much as we _all_ would," I say, thinking of Bard, "I am very aware of your feelings regarding Miss Elizabeth. I give you my word: I was not and will not entertain any ideas involving anyone's death."

More's the pity, I thought, though some may well be moved to attempt homicide when I've finished with them. Or suicide.


	3. Chapter 3

By Friday next, Phantomhive manor is prepared to perfection. Not to my standards, mind you, which most would say are already over the top. No To the ridiculously exacting standards of that fierce martinette, Lady Frances Midford.

It would be no exaggeration to say the servants and I have slaved for this. It was particularly hard on Maylene, Finny and Bard, since, normally, they accomplish nothing more than eating up my young lord's provender, taking up space and blundering about randomly destroying what I have managed to accomplish. But this situation is different and they know it. I often have good reason to belittle their collective intelligence but even they have the wit to realise their jobs and the young master's future happiness—which seems to actually distress them even more than the prospect of losing their ridiculously comfortable positions—are hanging in the balance. Hence they are working with a will rarely seen under this roof.

Maylene has taken off her ridiculous glasses. Finny is acting as her eyes. She is watching that his strength is carefully controlled. Bard, for once,has laid down his idiotic flamethrower and explosives, left the kitchen to me and picked up a bucket, brush and cleaning rags, and I have thrown off the restriction regarding magic which my lord imposed upon me after I conjured up a new manor house and a sumptuous supper for him on our first night together.

I want to make certain, you see, that when the Lady Frances finds fault with us, it will be for _the right reasons._

Very early in the morning a carriage was sent round for Lau and a judicious selection of his girls—as well as some of his best erm, product, shall we say. Ostensibly the purpose behind involving the shady Chinese and his stable of 'talented' women was to help celebrate my young lord's upcoming nuptials—in your time you would call it a 'bachelor' or 'stag party' but I'm sure you realise there's more behind my machinations than a simple party.

Things have been carefully orchestrated: the front door has been left unbolted and slightly opened. A selection of empty bottles from my young lord's new drinking hobby—he'd been stashing them beneath his bed inside the box concealing his collection of erotic picture books and penny-dreadfuls—and some old under things of Maylene's were strewn in front of the front door on the circular drive.

We are awaiting the Midford's arrival. At Lady Midford's insistence they usually arrive quite a bit earlier than expected, So Lau and the servants have been carefully collected and arranged in the smoking room off the dining room and coached as to what they should be doing since right after breakfast. Of course I have a few tricks of my own planned as well. Lau had been given quite a lot of money and some secret instructions regarding smoking up the room and bringing some choice edibles with him spiked with various intoxicants and hallucinogens for his girls and the servants to 'enjoy'.

I was beginning to enjoy myself; it's been a long while since I've hosted an orgy.

"What is the meaning of this!" rings out in the foyer at half eleven-proof we were not wrong to begin our plans at the crack of dawn. At the sound of her voice I exited the smoking room at top speed to fetch my lord. He'd been deliberately allowed to remain abed with a generous selection of alcohol at his elbow. Staging his participation in an orgy is one thing, allowing him to actually participate in one at his age quite another. Remember that protecting him is a large part of my contract.

As I pick him up I am pleased for once to see he has been playing his part to perfection, helping himself to yet another bottle of brandy and fallen back asleep while still in his nightshirt and –oh dear—not much else.

Excellent.

Back down (straight through the walls to save time) to the choking atmosphere of the smoking room, just as our visitors cross the dining room and open the door on us. I just have time to pose my young lord and make a few adjustments to the tableau as Elizabeth bursts into the room howling "Found them mother!" only to be stunned for once into blessed silence.

Of course it would only be temporary. You would think after seeing so many adults barely clothed and lounging about in a room thick with opium smoke she'd run screaming from the premises, but no. There's no end to this girl's ability to deceive herself. Of all things to latch onto she decides to comment on the atmosphere.

"What's that funny smell?" she asked, wrinkling up her face and pointedly staring into my eyes and nowhere else. She particularly didn't look at Ciel, who was passed out behind me on a settee in just his haphazardly buttoned nightshirt, his legs splayed out in a truly delightful manner, one knee hooked over the arm. Only the brandy bottle between his legs preserved what little was left of his decorum.

The Lady Frances, marching up behind her daughter, is of course made of sterner stuff. "Elizabeth," she bit off, "what have I _repeatedly_ told you about throwing yourself about like this? You do_ not_ fling yourself through closed doors, especially in other peoples' houses! Now march upstairs and unpack. Your brother has already taken your trunk to your usual room _since no servants were available to do it_. Unpack and _stay_ there until I tell you otherwise."

"But what's wrong with my Ciel? He looks sick, Mother, I—"

"Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford!"

The girl blanched. Well. At least there is someone on this planet she listens to. "Yes, mother," she said meekly and scuttled off.

"Now. What manner of debauchery is this?!" the marchioness thundered.

"The best, my lady," I answered her from my spot on the floor, "for only the best will do for my lord the earl of Phantomhive." I said, rolling off a startled, beet red Maylene, who had only just this moment (thanks to the incredibly thick opium smoke in the room) realised she and I were both quite naked (It hadn't been her doing, of course). As were most of the other people in the room, that is to say they were in various advanced stages of undress, Lau included. He had on a kimono. It was only draped over his shoulders, however. He wore no obi or sash with it and was making no effort to keep the garment closed in the front. And that was all he was wearing other than a rather proud smile.

Well, I did tell him 'come as you are'.

Yes yes, an evil trick. But exactly what did you people expect from a demon? Church hymns and a prayer circle?

Maylene shrieked and wriggled out from under me, stopping just a long enough to stare hard at the masculine glories she was abandoning in her scramble to reclaim propriety. I let her look. She took it hard, poor girl. Ah but she does want me in the worst way-which, co-incidentally, was the precise way I had been planning on taking her if I'd had time and could manage to get away with it. Sadly, Lady Frances came early and I, not at all.

So Maylene made good her escape and stumbled over to the grand piano, ripping away the tapestry draped over it, upsetting a candelabrum, a flower vase full of roses and a vast collection of photographs and bric-a-brac, showering herself with broken crystal, water, cut flowers and picture frames. Not that she cared. She'd been intent on getting her voluptuous body back under wraps and was now trying to edge her way out of the room as discreetly as possible while trying to capture the blood slowly dripping down her upper lip before it stained the carpet.

Once under the inhibition-banishing influence of the opium smoke, Bard and Finny had been an unexpected bonus: they were currently rutting uninhibitedly on the leather chesterfield—thank Asmodeus it was dark leather!—completely oblivious to their audience. And noisy! I couldn't have asked for better if I'd handed them a script. I suppose I really should visit the servant's quarters more often. Look at what I've been missing.

I had yet to move other than to prop my head up with the heel of one hand, the better to observe the Marchionesse. I wanted to give her ample time to appreciate the brand new tattoo I'd just that morning conjured across my bum just for her. "Honey Hole" it said. One word for each cheek.

Well, she'd seen it but hadn't taken it as big as I'd hoped, so I rolled up onto my hip to give her a look at the other side. She pinked up a bit but she didn't lose sight of her goal. Honestly. What a woman. I can see which side of the family Ciel gets it from.

"You there, butler. I want this nonsense cleared up, THAT (she pointed to Lau) removed, and YOU (pointing to me) back in your uniform by the time I come back down these stairs. Do I make myself clear?"

Lau sauntered up to her, his robe flapping around his long white legs, and said 'Now my Lady, this won't do. We've only just got started. You're the visitor here, the visitor who decided to show up earlier than announced which is really quite rude. Shouldn't you fall in with our ways? Relax, have yourself a pipe and join us." He smiled broadly after blowing a huge puff of the stuff into her face. "I'll just bet that fire of yours would translate beautifully into fiery passion if you'd let it, hm?" and he dared to run a fingertip along the Lady's jaw, tipping her chin up and smiling at her as fetchingly as he knew how. For once Lau's total ignorance played in his favour: if he'd known the fierce creature he was fingering, he' never have risked that finger for fear of having it bitten off.

Good old Lau. A pain in the arse generally, but at times like this, he's a true brick. Zero chance of any of his behaviour working, but at least he tried. And who knows, as she stood in that doorway inhaling those fumes, perhaps something might have changed in her. Certainly she was uncharacteristically silent for a moment, looking at that inscrutable face before her, but unfortunately my master chose that moment to vomit most impressively over himself and the little settee he was slumped upon.

If there had been a vomiting award for distance or trajectory he would surely have taken home the prize. As it was all he did was bring his aunt back to her senses.

"Take your hand off me sir. I neither know you nor care to. Slither back to whatever subterranean realm you crawled out from and never darken my family's door again!" The woman thundered impressively. Lau cast eyes my way and I signalled he might want to follow her direction. "And you, you ridiculous excuse for a butler: take that bottle away from my nephew and get his clothes back on him. And you as well, you utterly indecent creature! NOW!" The woman took a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed at her forehead and neck with it, then using it as a makeshift fan. "Thank God Alexis and Edward remained in the foyer as I asked them to. Utterly disgraceful!"

Perhaps her mouth was saying 'disgraceful', but Lady Frances' lingering eyes and moistening features were telling me another story all together. I began to wonder just what the evening might hold for us all.

Behind me Finny and Bard managed to fall off the Chesterfield. The Marchionesse's entrance hadn't even slowed them down. Lady Frances barely spared them a withering glance before turning on her heel and exiting the room.

My my. Are we going to have to bugger sheep on the dining table during supper to put this woman off?

Supper was a dismal affair, even without my lord's epic hangover. With it he managed to make all our lives just that much more difficult. Things were made even more delightfully chaotic by my insisting on Maylene and Finny serving the diners, with predictable results. Every time the maid laid eyes on either Lady Frances or myself she either turned white or red and either dropped hat she was carrying or tossed it in the air—which she did no less than three times when I gave her direction on her abysmal serving technique. Nearly every time she managed to slop something scalding on either Lady Frances or Ciel or both, and once she managed to get Edward right in the eye with a flying pickled gherkin which sent him howling out of the room.

Needless to say by the end of the meal tensions were such I was expecting spontaneous combustions to begin at any minute. And when the Marquis and his wife both found broken glass in their tiramisu, dinner as officially given up on and everybody stalked off to their bedrooms. This early abdication of the ground floor suited me because I had a great deal to do to get ready for the masque we would be hosting Saturday night.


End file.
